


Back to the Beginning

by Rainia_Nytewolf1



Category: The Tudors
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-29
Updated: 2014-03-29
Packaged: 2018-01-17 11:13:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1385533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainia_Nytewolf1/pseuds/Rainia_Nytewolf1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Katherine had seven pregnancies instead of six? How would history change if Henry had a living, legitimate son by Katherine of Aragon when he met Anne Boleyn?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was never quite happy with how the first chapter turned out for this story, and as I've grown as a writer with my other stories, I felt like I should do this story justice by revisiting it and rewriting it. As this one catches up with the other story, I will eventually be deleting it. If you liked the original, I hope you'll be with me during my journey to make it even better. Thank you all for your kind words of encouragement. Please drop me a line and let me know how much you like it. I love hearing from you, even if it's just you adding my story to your favorites list. It gives me happy feels.
> 
> Also, don't try and tell me that I don't know my history because I've changed certain events. This is FICTION, people. I'm aware of what happened in reality but I've changed it to suit my story line.

Was she going mad? Katherine wondered, even as she cast pleading eyes towards the statue of the Virgin Mary within the confines of her private chapel. The quiet click of her rosary beads moving through her fingers anchored her in the present even as she pondered the future. So many times, she'd prostrated herself before the images of both the Virgin and Christ in hopes of them hearing her desperate prayers for a living son. Was it possible that they had answered her at last?

Unwinding a hand from her beads, she gently placed it on the stomacher of her gown. Her courses were due almost three months ago, filling her with a sense of hope she hadn't felt in sometime. She knew her ladies had been whispering to themselves about the fact that she was getting older and that perhaps her childbearing years were leaving her. Katherine couldn't bear the thought, eyes closing in silent pain. Henry hadn't been faithful since the early years of their marriage, his attention straying with every miscarriage. Some dark part of her mind whispered that if she could no longer bear his children it would only get worse.

She'd been surprised when he'd shown up in her chambers those few months ago, so drunk he was almost tripping over his own two feet. Long since used to such things, she'd endured his amorous attentions with little difficulty. When he'd finally rolled off of her and fell asleep, one of her ladies crept in and helped her change into a fresh gown. She'd stayed awake for hours that night, one hand resting on her belly, silently praying for a miracle.

Please, she silently begged of the Virgin, please let me not fail again. Give me a son to fill my empty womb.

The young woman silently sneaked through London's back alleys, glancing neither left nor right as she hurried along. Her cloak was drawn up over her head, obscuring her identity. Upon reaching her destination, she knocked quickly, glancing around to make sure she hadn't been followed. A sudden gush of warm air indicated the door had opened, and she entered quickly.

"What can I do for you, dearie?" A matronly woman stood before her, hands resting on her wide hips. "Need to take care of a little... problem?"

Startled, the woman in the cloak glanced up, her hood dropping from her head. "No, you don't-"

Noting the rich dress of the woman before her, the midwife shrugged. "Hardly the first time I've had to help one of you court ladies. Come on, this won't take long."

"I'm sorry, lady, but truly, you misunderstand. I'm here on behalf of my mistress," the young woman elaborated, hastily pulling a sealed parchment from the hidden pocket of her gown. "I've also a purse for you, if you agree to help or to buy your silence if need be."

Shocked into silence, the midwife simply stared at the young woman for a few moments. "Alright... what is it exactly your mistress wishes of me?"

"She wishes to be examined by you, to confirm if her suspicions are correct. Three days hence, she will be brought here to be examined by you, should you consent," the maid replied, fetching the small purse from the pocket of her gown. "This is half of your payment, you will receive another one should you consent."

The subtle clink of coins was not lost on the other woman, who held out her hand expectantly. When it was passed over, she promptly opened it, only to gape in surprise at the gold gleaming within. "Do you consent?" the other woman asked, causing the midwife to look up from the purse.

"Aye, I consent," the midwife agreed, closing the purse and tucking it in her own pocket. If there was more where that came from, she'd be stupid to turn it down. "Three days?"

"Three days," the maid agreed, and with the barest curtsy, drew her hood back over her head and scurried out.

Three days later, the midwife half-expected that the young woman who'd turned up at her door would not show up again. She'd gone about her business as usual, tending to expectant mothers and assisting with the birth of a couple different children. Closing her curtains, she sighed wearily only to jump in surprise when a sudden knock came at her door. Hesitantly, she went over to her door, opening it only a crack until she noticed the fine cloak that the woman who'd visited her days ago. "Come in, come in," she beckoned, opening the door wider. This time, two people came in, both swathed in fine material from head to toe, obscuring their identities.

The same woman who'd visited her before was the first to lower her hood. "Are we alone?" she questioned the midwife, even as she went to the windows and made sure the curtains were closed completely.

"Yes, of course, dear. It's not like we're expecting the Que-," she started before gasping with astonishment as none other than Queen Katherine was revealed to be the other woman under the cloak. "Your Majesty! Forgive me, my lady, I meant no offense!" the midwife begged, curtsying low before her.

"You may rise," Katherine replied, motioning with a wave of her hand. "You didn't know for a reason. The King can never know I was ever here, do you understand?"

"Yes, Majesty," the midwife agreed, rising from her curtsy at the Queen's gesture. She still couldn't believe it. Queen Katherine, here, in her home! "I'm sorry, my lady, but I don't understand...," she began, before trailing off.

"You have consented to see me, and I find myself in need of your unique brand of services. I find that I trust other women in these matters than the royal physicians.

Are you still willing to help me, now that you know who I am?" Katherine questioned, staring coolly at the woman before her. Maude had told her three days ago that the woman had consented, but now she couldn't help but wonder if the woman was going to change her mind now that she knew the identity of her client.

"Of course, my lady! It would be my honor to help you in whatever way I can," the midwife agreed without hesitation. She would never be able to tell a soul the truth but she would know that once upon a time, she'd been of service to the queen. "How may I be of service, Majesty?"

"My courses have been long past due for sometime," Katherine began, glancing over at where Maude stood like a sentry near the door. Her lady in waiting gave her an encouraging smile when she felt Katherine's gaze. Returning the look with a small smile of her own, she turned her attention back to the midwife. "I need to know...if either my childbearing years are at an end or...," here she paused, hand moving to caress her stomach,"if I'm with child."

A few weeks later, having confirmed the news with Dr. Lincare and buying the man's silence until she herself told the king, she sent one of her ladies with a note inviting the king to dine with her privately. She'd instructed the young woman to do whatever it took to get Henry to agree, telling her to hint that the queen had news for the king. Liveried servants came and went, setting up a small feast before the young woman returned with Henry's consent.

"His Majesty, the king," the herald announced as Henry was shown into her chambers. He looked vaguely annoyed, though whether at her or the happenings at court she couldn't tell.

Rising, Katherine curtsied in answer to his bow. "Henry," she greeted, smiling warmly as he grasped her hand and placed a dry kiss on her knuckles.

"Katherine," he greeted in turn, leading her to her seat and waiting for her before he sat down himself. Her ladies moved around them with a practiced ease, pouring them both wine before leaving them to their own devices. The lady who poured Katherine's wine made sure to water it down, which didn't escape his notice. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully even as he helped himself to the various sweetmeats and cheeses laid before them. "I was disappointed that you weren't at court today."

"I'm sorry Henry, but I wasn't feeling well earlier," Katherine replied contritely, swirling her watered wine briefly before rising it to her lips and taking a small sip. "The malady seems to have passed... for now."

"It's nothing serious I hope? Have you spoken to Dr. Lincare?" Henry questioned, slightly alarmed, as always, at the thought of illness. Since his brother had died, the thought of sickening and dying was a terrifying one. Especially now, that he was the king, and his only heir was his daughter. He couldn't -wouldn't!- let the Tudor dynasty die. Leaving the kingdom in the hands of a woman would destroy not only the Tudor line but also plunge the entire continent into civil war again.

"Yes, I have and no, it's nothing serious. In fact, the news was most welcome," she replied, helping herself to a particularly rare piece of meat. She normally didn't care for it being too rare, but now she felt the craving particularly keenly. Katherine cast her eyes demurely to her plate, glancing only briefly at Henry with a secret smile on her face.

Gaping like a landed carp, he simply stared at his wife for long moments. Was it possible? He'd almost given up hope of ever having another child with Katherine, especially once Lady Blount had given birth to little Henry Fitzroy. He'd begun studying scripture for an answer and the only thing that made sense was that he was being punished for marrying his brother's wife. Pope Julius II had granted them a dispensation allowing them to marry, but now... now he questioned whether god was refusing to give him a legitimate, living son to show his disfavor. "You are certain?" he finally ventured, a vague hope blossoming in his chest.

"As certain as anyone can be, at least until the child quickens," she agreed, a genuine smile lighting up her features. Katherine herself was almost certain, regardless of the fact that she hadn't felt the child move yet. Her breasts had been growing sore as of late and she'd begun throwing up more often than not in the mornings at the sight or smell of certain foods. What other reason for her symptoms than that of pregnancy?

Whooping in joy, Henry pushed away from the table and hurried over to her side, dropping to his knees before her. Hand shaking, he reached for her stomach only to hesitate briefly, raising his gaze to meet hers. With a gentle smile, she brought his hand to rest against her stomach, holding his hand against her. They remained that way for several moments, until suddenly, she felt the faintest flutter in her stomach. Henry's gaze turned wondering, lowering to where his hand was pressed against his wife's body. "My son...," he whispered, moving his hand gently as another flutter was felt.

Many months later, Henry had been awoken by his squire informing him the queen had gone into labor overnight. Now, he was currently pacing his presence chamber reminiscent of the lions that graced the Tudor coat of arms. Prayers fell from his lips, though he couldn't say anymore what exactly he was praying for. A living son, his wife surviving, they all seemed to run together in a jumbled mass. He was sure he looked like a crazy person, pacing around and seemingly talking to himself.

After what seemed a small eternity, the sound of the door opening caused him to stop mid-pace and whirl around to face a frightened looking groom. "Yes? What is it? What news of the queen?" he barked, firing the questions rapidly before the boy could even speak. He stalked forward, causing the groom to back up a step as the king approached. "Speak, boy!"

"Your Majesty, Her Majesty is delivered of a son," the boy began, jumping back about a foot at the king's joyous shout,"as well as a daughter."

Not hesitating for a moment, he rushed past the frightened groom, breaking into a run as he reached the hallway. He quickly managed to traverse the castle, only barely hearing Charles Brandon congratulating him just outside his doors. He made it to Katherine's chambers in record time, breathing heavily from his exertion. Several of the queen's ladies looked almost scandalized at seeing the king in such a disheveled state, but he ignored them all. As Dr. Lincare exited Katherine's bed chambers, Henry hurried to the man's side. "How fares the queen and my son?" he asked, not expecting an answer even as he made his way into his wife's chamber.

Katherine looked pale as cheese, her beautiful red hair darkened with sweat. A vaguely sour smell emanated from the chambers, but he was too distracted to care. Two of her ladies each held a bundle that was wiggling, but otherwise silent. "Katherine, sweetheart,"he began, going down on his knees beside her bed. "You've made me so proud, my love!"

Cloudy blue eyes fluttered open, and her head turned weakly on her pillow towards Henry's voice. "Henry...," she whispered, lifting one hand slightly towards him before it fell back to the bed.

Grasping her hand between his, he kissed her hand as he'd done months ago. "My dearest love," he whispered, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against their clasped hands. When her breathing suddenly grew ragged, his eyes popped open, instantly looking towards her face. "Doctor!" he shouted, noting that she was turning paler by the second.

Lincare rushed in, his assistants following. "Your Majesty, I'm sorry, but I must ask you to leave," he instructed, rushing to Katherine's side.

Rising, Henry followed the two ladies carrying the children, both of which were silently weeping. Falling to his knees just outside the door, he turned his eyes up towards heaven. "Please, God, don't take her from me! Please!" he begged, openly weeping.

Moments later, Lincare exited the chamber, looking at Henry sadly. "I'm so sorry, your Majesty, we tried everything we could..."

The newborn babies, which had been silent in the arms of their mother's ladies in waiting, suddenly began to wail loudly as though they sensed the loss of their mother. Curling into a fetal position on the floor, Henry continued to weep, mourning the loss of the wife that had finally given him a living son.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry tries to move on from his loss.

When the bells tolled throughout London, announcing the birth of both a prince and princess, it seemed as if the whole kingdom were celebrating. No one could possibly have expected the devastating news that would soon follow. The death of Katherine of Aragon plunged everyone who had been celebrating just moments before into mourning. People were weeping openly in the streets, and almost every merchant had closed up shop. The king himself had holed up in his private chapel, refusing to be moved from Katherine's body as it lay in state.

Sir Thomas More hesitated just inside the chapel doors, his heart breaking in his chest for his former pupil. He'd felt the same almost devastating pain when his first wife had passed so he could relate to Harry in a way. This couldn't go on forever, though. Katherine was to be interred today and on the morrow, the two babes she'd died giving birth to would be christened. Steeling himself, he approached the pew where the king knelt and knelt beside him. Crossing himself, he lowered his head and began to pray. Sensing the gaze of the other man, he finished his prayers before meeting the king's red-rimmed gaze. "She is to be buried today," Henry's voice was hoarse from crying and misuse. He'd hardly spoken a word to anyone, preferring instead to sit in silent vigil while his wife's body lay in state.

"Yes, Sire. The funeral procession is supposed to start in a little over an hour," Thomas agreed, eyes moving almost unconsciously to the queen's body. She was dressed in her finest gown, a rosary wrapped around her hands. A faint smile was on her face, and if he didn't know better, he'd swear the woman to be only sleeping. "The prince and princess are to be christened tomorrow."

Lapsing into silence at the mention of his children, the king seemed to withdraw into himself. Finally, he nodded in acknowledgement. "I know," he agreed passively, drawing in a shuddering breath. "Do you think this is my punishment, Thomas? I believed that He was punishing me by not giving me a living son. Now, I have my son, but He saw fit to take his mother from me."

More, usually the one with all the answers to Henry's questions, now found himself at a loss. "I do not believe that He is punishing you, Harry. These things simply... happen sometimes. I'm sure her Majesty knew that there was always a possibility that she might die giving birth to a child," he finally answered carefully, gauging the king's reaction carefully. "She would want you to see them."

He didn't think it was possible but Henry looked as though Thomas had just punched him in the stomach. "I can't do it, Thomas," he choked out, pressing a hand over his mouth. "The thought of gazing upon them... I love my children, but what kind of father does it make me?" he asked with a heart-wrenching sob. "If that makes me a terrible father, so be it."

"Harry...," More began, only to be taken aback by Henry all but collapsing against him, sobbing quietly. He hadn't seen his king cry like this since his father had died and the reality of becoming England's next king had sunk in. In between sobs, the king kept repeating over and over, "Don't make me, please don't make me." Unable to come up with anything to try and make Henry feel better, Thomas simply held the man in a comforting embrace.

Court life moved on as it always did, full of drama and intrigue. Prior to Katherine's demise, and much to her dislike, Cardinal Wolsey had been gently pushing for an alliance with France. Katherine had hated the very idea of her daughter being betrothed to the French dauphin and had never hesitated to make her feelings known on the matter. Now, especially with the murder of one of Henry's envoys in France, was the time to act. The young monarch had been snapped out of his depression by this news, growing increasingly furious as he pushed for war.

War was never popular with the subjects, as it meant higher taxes. Higher taxes meant meant unhappy subjects which could lead to rebellion, the very last thing that the fledgling Tudor monarchy needed. Having requested and been granted a private audience with the king, both the cardinal and Thomas More were shown into Henry's presence. "How fare the preparations?" Henry demanded the moment the door shut behind the two men.

"Very well. Both your army and fleet are assembling. Stores and provisions are being laid in. You could go to war in a matter of weeks," Wolsey replied, clasping his hands before him.

"Excellent," Henry praised, the idea of of war and winning a glorious battle lightening his mood greatly. "I knew I could depend on you."

With a small smile, Wolsey inclined his head gratefully. "I am grateful to your Majesty."

The sudden silence from the two men made the king look between them, frowning. "What is it?"

"Your Majesty, wars are expensive. To pay for them, you have to raise taxes. That's not always popular," Wolsey pointed out, careful of his words and delivery. He'd been dealing with the king since the man had been crowned and he was more than aware of how to deal with his sovereign by now.

"What if your Majesty could gain power and prestige by other means? Peaceful means?"

"What? No battles, no glory?" Henry asked, quickly rising from his seat, clearly not wanting to give up the idea of going to war.

Both men could tell Henry was getting wound up, but they had come prepared for this. "I think your Majesty should hear him out,"Thomas told him, raising his hands slightly in a placating gesture.

Clearly not happy with the idea, Henry nodded and returned to his seat, gesturing for Wolsey to continue impatiently.

"In the past few weeks, I have conducted, on Your Majesty's behalf an intense round of diplomatic talks. Not just with the French ambassador but also with representatives of the Emperor,"Wolsey explained, drawing out his explanation with an air of indifference.

Drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair, Henry stared the man down. "What for?"

"To make a treaty,"the cardinal elaborated, a secretive smile crossing his face. Let them think he was smiling at the thought of the treaty, he reasoned privately, his gaze on the king.

Looking between them, Henry almost laughed at the absurdity of the two of them teaming up to spring this on him. More and Wolsey hardly ever got along, and now here they were presenting him with the idea of a treaty instead of war. "What kind of treaty?" he asked grudgingly, his dreams of war and glory shrinking away.

"A treaty of universal and perpetual peace," the cardinal replied, clearly pleased with himself.

They'd definitely been planning on this, Henry mused, stroking his chin thoughtfully. He wanted to be remembered as a great king, and war would only make for unhappy subjects that wouldn't consider him thus. Plus, and here his heart felt like it was being squeezed painfully in his chest, his son was still a babe. He couldn't very well go off to war with an infant for an heir. "How is to be effected?"

"In several stages. In the first place, there would be a summit meeting between the kings of France and England. At the summit, Your Majesty's eldest daughter would be betrothed to the French dauphin," Wolsey elaborated, choosing his words carefully. Henry didn't like being reminded of his younger children, still too focused on the loss of his wife. Personally, the cardinal thought it was high time that the king remarry and produce a Duke of York, but alas it did not seem as though the king had any inclination to marry anytime soon. "At the end of the summit, you would both sign the treaty."

"The treaty is entirely new in the history of Europe, committing all its signatories to the principles of collective security and universal peace."

The idea had merit, even Henry could agree to that. "How would it be enforced?"

"If any of the signatory countries suffer aggression all the others would immediately demand that the aggressor withdraws. If he refuses, within one month the rest would declare against him and continue until peace is restored," More explained, jumping in before Wolsey could speak again. "The treaty also envisages the creation of pan-European institutions"

After a few moments of silent consideration, Henry finally nodded. "In some ways, I like it. I recognize it - so do you, Thomas," he directed, looking towards his former tutor.

"Indeed," More agreed with a nod and a proud smile.

"It's the application of humanist principles to international affairs. Your eminence is to be congratulated," Henry praised, turning his attention to Wolsey, who bowed his head in acknowledgement.

"I do not seek praise," the cardinal demurred, clasping his hands before him. "Your Majesty would be known as the architect of a new and modern world, and that would be reward enough."

Rising, Henry strode forward, clasping a hand on each man's shoulder. "Always be assured of our love," he told them both. "Goodnight, gentlemen."

Alone in his bedchamber, Henry stared at the velvet canopy above him, lost in thought. If Katherine had survived the child bed, he knew she'd be furious with him for even entertaining the thought of marrying their daughter to a French prince. It had been near half a year since she'd passed and he knew Wolsey was getting more and more annoyed that Henry had not chosen another woman to become his wife and queen. Should he remarry? Yes, he supposed, he should. Did he want to, with Katherine's loss so fresh in his mind? No.

Few knew that he hadn't even been able to bear the thought of seeing his son and second daughter, even now, months after Katherine's passing. He'd brought Mary to court so she could observe and learn how to behave at court and he'd told More that was all he could bear to do. It was hard enough looking at Mary and hearing her practicing Spanish with her ladies, or watching her at prayer. Every time he laid eyes on her, he could only imagine his Katherine at her age and the ache began again.

He'd remained the dutiful father as always, making sure to spend a few hours or even a few minutes with her everyday. Mary clearly enjoyed her father's attention but he knew as well as she that he was a poor replacement for the mother she'd adored with all her heart. They would set sail for Calais in little over two week's time, where he would both present Mary to the dauphin and sign the treaty.

Perhaps when they returned, he would take Mary and go see his other children. The debauchery the French court was known for would surely take his mind off Katherine and maybe then he'd be able to put her loss behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

Henry had never been so furious in his life. First, that irritating frog that called himself the King of France had beaten him before both their courts at wrestling and now, the same had the NERVE -nay, the AUDACITY- to break the treaty they'd signed at the Field of the Cloth of Gold. Disgusted with the French, he threw the missive into the fireplace, watching with a bizarre sense of satisfaction as it blackened and curled. The only good thing that had come out of the debacle was his dalliance with Mary Boleyn.

The fact that Francis had been the one to point the girl out irked him greatly but the girl had been nice enough to look at and certainly skilled between the sheets. Part of him wondered briefly if maybe the treaty falling apart was Katherine's doing. She'd been gone almost five years now and he'd known all to well how badly she loathed the French. Maybe this was her way of showing her disapproval for the idea from Heaven?

Now, More was in the process of negotiating a possible treaty with the Emperor. The court was rapidly beginning to make preparations for his eminent arrival, with Master Cornish planning a masque for entertainment. The whole thing made his head hurt, anger pulsing through him again at the thought of how Francis had made a fool of him in front of both their courts. "Your Majesty, the Duchess of Suffolk," he heard his groom announce, causing him to turn and smile brilliantly at his sister.

"Brother," Mary greeted with a curtsy, smiling winningly at him.

"Sister," he replied in turn, stepping forward and embracing her fondly. "How do you fare? And my nephew, is he well?"

"I'm well, as is your nephew. He's already wanting to come to court to see his favorite uncle, as he calls you," she replied, her voice growing fond as she spoke of her son. "We keep reminding him that you are his only uncle, so he keeps telling me that means you are his favorite."

The siblings shared a chuckle at that, before lapsing into comfortable silence. Gallantly, Henry offered her a seat before sitting across from her. "So, to what do I owe the honor of my lovely sister's presence?"

"Master Cornish requested that I take place in the masque, so here I am. Besides, do I need a reason to come see my brother?" She inquired innocently, deliberately fiddling with an errant thread on the sleeve of her gown.

Henry eyed her curiously, knowing all to well the tone she'd just used. She wanted something, something that would likely upset him. Sighing, he scratched at his chin a moment before speaking. "What is it, Mary?"

"Well, you asked after my son, so what of yours? How fare my nieces and nephew?" She asked, meeting his gaze directly for the first time since entering the room. When he didn't respond, she shook her head in disgust. "You can't mean to tell me that you still have not been to see them?"

"I've been busy," he replied sullenly, avoiding her gaze. In truth, though Katherine had been gone for years now and he'd taken many women to his bed in the mean time, the thought of seeing the children she'd died to bring into this world still stung. The thought didn't hurt near as much as his sister's hand suddenly reaching out and striking him across the face. Jaw flexing, Henry rose to his feet and stared his sister down. "How dare you?!"

"How dare I?!," She ground out, standing her ground even though he could easily order her arrest for striking him. Her outrage on the children's behalf outweighed her fear of him. "How dare YOU, brother! You dare to dishonor Katherine's memory by refusing to set eyes on your own children? The children she bore in order to give you the heir you sought so desperately?"

Shame flooded him as his anger receded. The flush of red that had darkened his face in anger slowly drained, leaving him mostly pale with only the outline of her hand still red on his face. "I've tried, sister. I've even started out on the road to Hatfield with only my guard but I've always turned around halfway there."

"So try harder! Children need a father. They need you, Harry."

"Uncle," Anne Boleyn greeted, curtsying at her uncle Norfolk and her father. Her heart beat rapidly beneath her chest, and nerves threatened to choke her but outwardly she showed no signs of her distress. "Papa."

"Anne," Norfolk replied, eying his niece before looking towards his brother in law.

"Sweet Anne," Thomas greeted, linking his arm through his daughter's. "You know why you're here?"

"No, Papa. In Paris, no one explained," she murmured, glancing back at her uncle who fell behind them before turning her attention back to her father.

"Good, it's better that way," her father replied, patting her hand gently.

"What's happened?" She questioned, worry for her sibling's flooding through her. Had something happened to Mary or George?

"The alliance between England and France has fell through," he replied, suddenly halting and meeting her gaze directly. "It seems that the king has tired of your sister. He no longer invites her to his bed."

That was all? The king discarded women like there was no tomorrow, everyone knew that. "Poor Mary," she muttered instead of revealing her true feelings on the matter.

"Poor us. When she was his mistress, our fortunes were made. Now, most likely they will fail," he pointed out, "unless..."

Anne suddenly realized what her father was implying, and she felt like gaping at him in shock. He couldn't possibly be serious! She'd never wanted to become the mistress of a king, unlike Mary. She'd had a liaison or two of her own in France, but nothing that would shame her on her wedding night. The thought of being referred to as an English Mare, as Francis had been known to call her sister, had disgusted her and she'd vowed then and there that she would never do such a thing as her father was asking her now. All she could do was play the game long enough to get back to her family's estate in Hever and then she'd tell Thomas Wyatt that she would gladly become his wife if he'd take her away from all this. "Even if he had me, who is to say he would keep me? It's not just Mary. They say that all his liaisons are soon over. He blows hot, he blows cold," she told him, even as her uncle saw fit to join the conversation.

"Perhaps you could imagine a way to keep his interest more prolonged? I daresay you learned things in France," Norfolk murmured, careful to keep his voice low so as not to be overheard. "How to play his passions? There's something deep and dangerous in you, Anne. Those eyes of yours are like dark hooks for the soul."

Charles had been shocked when Henry had come to him, and demanded his presence on the ride to Wales. Mary had told him what she planned to do, but Charles had privately doubted she'd be able to convince her brother to go see the children he hadn't set eyes on since their birth. The Emperor was to be in England within the week and while the court was busy making preparations, Henry had sought him out and announced his plans. That day, they'd had their horses saddled and set off, telling few where they were taking off to.

"Did you put her up to it, Charles?" Henry questioned his friend, breaking the comfortable silence they'd lapsed into as they drew closer to Hatfield house.

"Nay, Majesty, it was Mary's idea from the start,"Brandon replied, knowing that which the the king was referring to. He'd thought his heart had almost stopped when Mary had regaled him with how she'd actually struck Henry across the face when he'd tried to make an excuse to not see his children. "I do have to ask... is it true she struck you?"

Henry growled, shifting uncomfortably in his saddle as the reminder of how his sister had indeed struck him. "Yes, well... upon reflection, I suppose I deserved it."

When one of the young maids to the princesses rushed into the room disrupting the children's lessons, Lady Salisbury had been ready to rebuke the girl. Before she could even do more than think about telling the girl off for her unseemly haste, the young woman breathlessly whispered in her ear that the king had been spotted on the road, and would be here within the hour. Horror flooded through her, even as she began shouting orders at the various maids to make the prince and princesses ready for the king's visit.

In the room that the princesses shared, Mary had shooed the maids away and was helping her younger sister dress. "See, Joanna? I told you papa would come and see us," she said as she knelt down to fix her sister's hair.

Mary seemed excited that their papa was coming to see them but Joanna felt nothing more than sheer terror. Papa had never in her memory come to see her or Edmund, even when Mary had been summoned to accompany their father to France. She and her brother were both too young for such a journey and Edmund was almost as important as their papa, being the heir to the throne. Mary had told her before that papa never came because he was the king and being the king meant that he was always very busy and didn't get the chance to see his children often. What she didn't know was that Joanna, in the process of sneaking to Edmund's room when she couldn't sleep one night, had overheard the maids talking.

Papa never came to see them because their mama had went to heaven the day that her and Edmund had been born. When she'd finally made it to her brother's room and crawled in beside him, she'd woken him up with her stifled sobs. He'd calmed her down and promised that he'd never leave her, not for anything. They'd vowed to keep it a secret between them and so far had succeeded but now, papa was here. Would he want to see Edmund and her or was he just here to see Mary?

Finally satisfied with her sister's appearance, Mary rose to her feet. "Are you ready?" She asked, holding out her hand for her sister.

NO! Joanna thought in terror, even as she placed her hand in her sisters. Lady Eleanor, her brother's nursemaid entered the room, hand in hand with Edmund. The young woman curtsied to the princesses even as she relinquished Edmund to Mary. With another curtsy and a murmured, "Majesties," the young woman left the room.

"Let's go see Papa," Mary told them both, looking from Joanna to her left and Edmund on her right. Neither of them responded, simply tightening their grip on her hands as she straightened her shoulders and began leading them out of the nursery.

"The children will be down shortly, Majesty," Salisbury told Henry as she showed the king and his duke to a parlor. "They would have been ready sooner but we were not prepared for a visit," she hasted to explain, inwardly praying that the king would not be angry that the children weren't ready upon his arrival.

"Quite alright, Lady Salisbury," the king remarked, settling in a chair and motioning for his duke to do the same. "Please have some wine brought for us and then you are dismissed."

Forcing a smile, Salisbury curtsied and exited the room. The two men sat in silence for a moment before Charles broke it. "Nervous?" he asked, glancing over at his friend and king.

"I shouldn't be. They're my children, for God's sake," Henry muttered, lapsing into silence as a servant brought an ewer of wine and poured them both glasses before bowing out of the room. When they were alone again, the king sighed as he picked up his goblet. Before he could speak, he heard the heralds shouting, "Make way for his Highness, the Prince of Wales and their royal Highness's the Princesses Mary and Joanna! Make way!" The parlor door was opened and Mary entered, leading her young siblings.

Henry's breath caught in his throat as he laid eyes on the twins Katherine had died giving birth to. Edmund looked almost identical to him and Arthur as a child, and while he'd always thought Mary looked like her mother, he could see that Joanna was almost her ghost. His youngest daughter had the same strawberry blonde hair and blue eyes as his late wife, but unlike Katherine who'd looked at him with love in her eyes, Joanna looked simply terrified. His gaze moved from her to Edmund and noted that the same terror was reflected in his son's eyes. Leaning forward, Henry beckoned them closer. Mary disentangled her hands from those of her siblings and nearly jumped when Joanna let out a wail of terror and buried her face in Mary's side, refusing to budge.

"Sweetheart, what is it?" Henry asked, rising and hurrying to kneel by the child's side. He tried to pull her away from Mary but the girl would not be moved. In between sobs, Henry could hear her muttering something, her voice muffled by the voluminous silk of her sister's skirt. Finally, he could make out his daughter saying, "I'm sorry, we didn't mean to, I'm sorry," over and over again.

"What is it, Joanna? What's wrong?" Mary questioned, kneeling down to her sister's height.

Unable to hide her face in Mary's dress, the girl instead pressed her face into Mary's neck, throwing her arms around her sister. "To make mama go away to Heaven. That's why papa doesn't like us," she sobbed out, shaking in her sister's embrace.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost the entire scene with the masque is taken from the script of episode 1.03, as well as a good deal of the dialogue between Henry and the Emperor. The only change I put is instead of the Ambassadors, it's Charles V that's attending. Also, I know Wyatt was married but I'm making him single (temporarily) for plot devices. Mary, Henry's sister, is referred to as the Dowager Queen due to her position as the Dowager Queen of France.

Henry rocked back on his heels, horror and shame racing through him as he rocked back on his heels. His gaze darted to a horrified-looking Mary, and over to an equally scared Edmund. "Who told you that?" he finally managed, trying to keep from yelling. Whoever had dared to even breathe a word to his children that he blamed them for Katherine would pay! "Joanna, look at me. Who told you that, sweetheart?"

Hiccuping, Joanna pulled herself away from her sister's side, scrubbing at her eyes with her hands. "I-I-I heard s-some of the l-l-ladies talking one night, w-when I-I was s-s-s-supposed to be s-sleeping," she confessed, looking up and meeting his gaze miserably.

"Why didn't you say anything, Joanna?" Mary asked kindly, grabbing a kerchief from the pocket hidden in the fold of her gown and handing it to her sister. "I could have told you that wasn't true."

"You were with Papa in France," Edmund piped up finally, drawing everyone's attention to the little prince, who looked uncomfortable under everyone's scrutiny. "And now you're going away again, aren't you?"

Father and daughter shared a glance, because it was true. Henry had come not to just see his youngest children but also to bring Mary back to court for her uncle's arrival. The Emperor was due within the week, and the king was hoping for a betrothal between the two to secure his alliance. Taking the silence for what it was, Joanna sniffed and stared at Henry with wet eyes. "Can't we come too, Papa?" she pleaded, meeting her father's gaze directly "we'll be good, we promise! Please?"

It certainly couldn't hurt to bring them to court, he mused as his gaze traveled over his children. Joanna could learn to be a lady and Edmund could start learning how to rule at his father's knee rather than from stuffy old men when he grew into manhood. Almost as if the children sensed him weakening to the idea, Joanna approached and threw her arms about his neck. "Please, papa?" she asked again, eyes pleading.

"Alright, alright! I'll take you all back to court with me," he agreed, pulling his daughter to him for a hug. Releasing Joanna, he motioned them out. "Go on, tell Lady Salisbury to get all of you ready."

Cheered, the children practically ran from the room and Henry sighed, rubbing at his forehead. "Am I crazy for doing this, Charles?" he asked, looking over his shoulder at the Duke, who'd remained silent throughout the children's audience with their father.

"You're a good man, Harry," Charles told his friend, rising and clapping a hand on the other man's shoulder. "Between you and I, I would have caved a lot sooner."

"His Eminence, Cardinal Wolsey and His imperial Highness Charles, Holy Roman Emperor, King of Aragon, Valencia, Naples and Sicily, Duke of the Burgundian Territories Archduke of Austria!"

A polite smattering of applause went through the great hall, as the Cardinal and Emperor made their way to the seats that had been specially reserved for them. A giant, castle like structure dominated the far end. As they found their seats, a trumpet blared and ladies dressed in white marched out and took their places amongst the battlements. Intrigued, Charles looked over at Wolsey. "Who are those ladies?" he questioned, gesturing to the ladies dressed in white.

"They are the Graces, Sire. They have names such as Kindness, Honor, Constancy, Mercy and Pity,"the cardinal explained, gesturing at the ladies in turn. "They are prisoners in the castle. The figure to the left, under the broken hearts, is the king's sister the Dowager Queen Mary."

Nodding, the Emperor gestured as ladies, this time dressed in black, came out and took their places as well amongst the ladies dressed in white. "Who is keeping them prisoner?"

"Danger, Jealousy, Unkindness, Scorn, Disdain, Strangeness, et cetera," Wolsey explained, as a group of young men dressed in black and gold entered the hall.

"Is the king there? Which one is the king?" Charles questioned, gaze searching the masked men for an indication of his nephew.

"The men represent Youth, Devotion, Loyalty, Pleasure, Gentleness, Liberty. And, yes, His Majesty is hid amongst them," the cardinal agreed and the two men lapsed into silence as the masque began.

Leading the pack of young men, William Cornish, disguised as Ardent Desire approached the castle. "As Ardent Desire, I demand you release your prisoners!" he cried out, brandishing a wooden sword in a comically threatening manner.

"As Lady Scorn, I laugh at your desires," a woman in black replied, tone haughty.

"These men are noble lords," he proclaimed, gesturing with his free hand.

Another lady in black laughed. "No, they're just men dressed up," she countered.

"I say it again, release these fair damsels that you keep so cruelly."

"Never!"

"Then you give us no choice but to attack and breach your defenses," he told them.

"No man shall ever breach mine,"another woman jeered, causing the crowd to laugh at the double entendre.

"Lady, Desire overcomes all! Attack!"

On cue, the young men raced up to the castle, causing the ladies in black to shriek and and run away, leaving the women in white without defense. Climbing up the battlements, Henry first approached his sister. "Sister," he greeted, holding out his hand and helping her down.

"Brother," she replied, sending a smile his way as she headed down to the floor.

Climbing up another level, Henry offered his hand to the young, dark haired woman before him. A silver heart glittered on her cheek, he noted before stopping short as their gazes met. Dark brown eyes met his and for a moment, Henry felt as though he couldn't breathe. She placed her delicate hand in his and his gaze finally dropped down to the sash on her shoulder. "Perseverance, you are my prisoner now," he breathed.

A small smile was his reward even as she used his grip to find her way down to the floor where the other ladies and gentlemen were assembling for a dance.

"And now all shall be unmasked," Cornish announced, and as one, both ladies and gentlemen removed their masks. A gasp went up from the crowd as Henry revealed his presence amongst them, followed by a round of applause. The music began and as one, the dancers went through the motions with a practiced ease. Managing to switch positions, Henry found himself partnered with the dark haired beauty he'd rescued from the castle. "Who are you?" he questioned as they went through the motions of the dance.

"I'm Anne. Anne Boleyn," she replied as the dance came to an end. With a curtsy, she disappeared into the crowd.

"Your Holiness," Henry greeted, moving forward and embracing the man known to the world as the Holy Roman Emperor. "It's good to see you."

"And you, your Majesty," Charles agreed as they broke apart and fell into step beside each other. "I was deeply saddened by the news of my aunt's passing."

The king nodded, his chest tightening at the mention of his late wife. "As were we all," he agreed, before brightening as they approached the huge warship that he'd had commissioned. "This is my flagship, The Mary Rose. She's the largest warship afloat. She displaces 700 tons, fires 91 guns and has a company of 400 men," he boasted, gesturing grandly.

Looking impressed, Charles ruefully shook his head. "I have nothing like this."

"You have vast armies. Together, we shall be invincible,"Henry told him in a placating tone, clapping a hand on the other man's shoulder.

"How could the French withstand us? With you beside me, there is no boundary or frontier or world we could not conquer," Charles agreed, grinning at Henry.

"I like you already," Henry decided, making the other man laugh.

"Except for the chin, what is there not to like?" Charles pointed out, causing the two of them to laugh together.

"You know, you and I are united by an indissoluble tie. Since you were married my mother's sister, you are really my uncle," Charles told him as they made their way through the castle, making Henry give him a pleased smile.

"It's an affinity which both delights and pleases me, nephew," the king replied, pleasure at the notion curling through him. "Now, come. I'd like you to allow me present my daughter Mary, your future bride."

Looking every inch the princess she was, Mary entered the room with a curtsy to both men. "Your Holiness," she greeted, smiling at her mother's nephew before turning her gaze to her father. "Papa."

"Bravo! Come forward, your Highness," Charles told her, beckoning the young woman forward. At her father's almost imperceptible nod, she moved forward.

"I have a present for your Highness, with your permission," Mary told him as Charles tucked her hand in his arm. "Do you want to see it?"

"I love presents. Show me," he agreed, allowing Mary to lead him over to a window that overlooked the courtyard.

"Look, there. Do you see them?"

Two grooms held a matched pair of horses. Impressed, Charles's gaze returned to that of his future bride. "Are they for me?"

Nodding, she met his gaze with a bashful smile. "Do you like them?"

"They are the best presents I've ever had," he told her sincerely, bowing low over her hand and kissing it. "Thank you, your Highness."

"Marry me."

Thomas Wyatt gaped at Anne briefly before recovering. "Are you serious?" he questioned weakly, hoping that she wasn't playing with him. He'd been in love with Anne Boleyn for years, and now here she was, asking him to marry her. Was this a dream? If it was, he thought feverishly, he never wanted to wake up.

"My father intends for me to catch the king's eye. I'd make you a good wife, Mister Wyatt, and bear you many sons," she told him, dark eyes pleading. She didn't love Wyatt, not really, but she figured that love would come with time. If not, better to be a simple housewife than the king's whore, she reckoned privately. She'd been asked to come to court, to join the young Princess Joanna's household as a lady in waiting. The Princess Mary was soon to be married off to the Holy Roman Emperor and soon enough, the young girl would be the highest ranking woman at court. Anne knew the real reason she was summoned to court was because she'd brought the king's attention upon herself. If she was married, it would be safe to not go to court and escape the king's attention.

"Anne, if the king has his sights on you..."Wyatt began, hesitating at the look of fury blooming in her eyes.

"Forget it," she told him, cutting him off before he could so much as offer a defense for turning her down. "I would have been happy to be your wife instead of his whore but it seems that you don't care. You are not to call upon me again. I leave for court in a week, and you will never see me again." Grabbing her skirts up in her hands, she turned her back on him and left him standing in the gardens of her family's estate.

A little over a week later, she was packed into a fine carriage and headed back to court.

Several months later, Henry found himself watching his son learn to ride as his youngest daughter prattled on beside him. "Lady Anne is so pretty papa, and smart too! She was my age when she was sent to France and she speaks French really, really good!"

At the mention of Anne's name, he tore his attention away from Edmund and looked down at his daughter, who looked back up at him curiously. "What else do you know about Lady Anne, darling?" he questioned, suddenly interested in her words.

"She's my favorite, papa," she confided secretly, glancing around to make sure none of her other ladies were around. She didn't want to hurt anyone's feelings, but it was true. Anne had lost her mama too, and Joanna felt a kind of kinship with the older woman because of it. "She wears a pretty necklace with a 'B' on it for her family name," she told him, before brightening as an idea hit her. "Can I have one like hers, papa? Only with a 'T' for Tudor? Please papa?"

"Of course, sweetheart,"he agreed idly, thinking that he'd give her anything if she'd just tell him about Anne. "What kind of things does Anne like?"

"She likes poems," she told him seriously, face screwed up as she thought of the things Anne had told her she liked. "And horses, she really loves horses. She told me when I get my own pony that her and I can go riding together."

Poems! He could do poems, Henry reckoned. "What about jewels, does she like jewelry?"

"Do you like Lady Anne, papa?" Joanna questioned, staring up at him in all seriousness. If her papa liked Anne enough, maybe Anne would become her new mama! The thought made her want to bounce in delight.

With a smile, Henry pulled her up and into his lap, settling his daughter on his knee. "And if I said yes?" he questioned teasingly, glancing at where Edmund sat tall and proud in the saddle of his pony as the groom lead him in a circle. "Would that please you, love?"

"Yes. Do you think she'd like to be my new mama?" she questioned, looking up at him.

"I think she'd like that,"he agreed before an idea came to him and he smiled down at her. "Would you like to help me with that, sweetheart?"


End file.
